Kneeling On My Grave
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: Sam/Amelie. I can feel. I may be dead, but I can feel. She is there, she is close and in pain. And it's all my fault.


_Death_.

It's a curious thing, death. It is something that the entire world will reach someday. It's a state of being most people dread but some people embrace the knowledge that they will one day have to die and so are not bitter about it.

Even vampires face death.

After all, it is impossible to survive _forever_. Whilst a vampire may have a new lease of life thrust upon them, by choice or by force, they _cannot_ expect to live forever. After all, I didn't. I was the third youngest vampire by the time of my passing, and I died. We cannot expect to live forever.

If I were to have died even a year ago, I wouldn't have been bothered. Nobody cared; Amelie pretended that she had no feelings for me, my family didn't care about me, Morganville was falling apart as humans and vampires began to fight openly. I was going to die anyway, from the disease, so I wouldn't have cared if I had faced the death I did then. It would have been less painful…

…for, you see, in the last months, we had been happy, Amelie and I. We had been spending time together and in that time she realised that she had been wrong to force me away from her for half a century, she had been wrong to not be with me when she loved me so much.

But the curse she seemed to have on her, or so she said, sparked up when she told me she loved me, when she told me that she _would_ be with me when her Father was destroyed. It flared up because I was dead before he was, the life drained from me by him as he drank my blood. He left me dead; unable to be with the one I love simply for selfish reasons: he didn't want his daughter to be happy.

And so here I am. Buried under the ground, dead but able to feel… probably because I am a vampire and I was not turned to ash as traditionally done with vampires. I was buried, the first one in Morganville. I can sense things, though I am not alive, but know that if there is something that could be done to bring me back, it probably would work because I am still here. Whether it be the manner in which I died that has done it, or the means by which I was 'disposed' with after dying, I don't know, but I'm here.

I can hear Amelie's pain, the thing she tries to hide from the world but here, here she shows it. It breaks my metaphorical heart to hear her collapsing onto my grave, to hear the soft shedding of her tears as they roll down her cheeks, to hear her whispered words. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry I didn't love you enough when you were alive to make up for your death. I love you…" she says things like this all the time, and I _want_ to find something in me to get up and to hug her, to get up and to make her realise that she has no need to be sorry, for I have never hated her and have nothing to forgive her for. But I can't.

I am dead.

It hurts me so much to admit it, as I hear Michael coming here and telling me he misses me and he is sorry for not wanting to know me as a grandfather before. It hurts me so much to realise I am never going to see him grow up, mature rather since he is a vampire now, and to never be able to comfort him again as I did when he was small.

But it hurts me the most that Amelie is blaming herself for something her father did. She had no choice to let me take the poison – otherwise we would have all died, for sure. She blames herself for it even though _it isn't her fault_. The only one of us whose fault it is, a tangible blame at best, is mine for wanting to do the poisoning… for it would bring me closer to her. It wasn't for Morganville, for town pride and spirit, but simply because I knew it would let me be close to Amelie on that stage in what could be our final moments.

It was mine. But because of that, it wasn't hers. I cannot be more thankful for the fact that I don't have to survive in a world without Amelie for that would, without a doubt, be one _hell_ of a lot worse than her surviving without me. She only had me for half a century – that's absolutely nothing in her long existence. Whereas to me, she has been mine for almost my entire life, and _definitely_ my entire vampire one.

Yet to see her in pain is a heart wrenching thing. To hear her coming here nearly every night destroys me, but it also makes me happy, in a sadistic sort of way. Why, I hear you ask? Well, every time she comes here, it solidifies the love between us and makes it even harder for Oliver to snatch her away from me. He _cannot_ have her. I _died_ for her. That has to count for something.

To some people, death brings pain. To some, death brings a knowledge that their loved one is in a better place. To me, it brings neither. It doesn't bring closure, for I can still feel and know what is going on in this world, for some strange reason.

To me, death brings the knowledge that I can never touch Amelie again, never feel her soft skin under my fingers, never peer into her perfect grey eyes and see her _true_ emotions, something not many people have the chance to do.

And I cannot tell you how much that hurts…

* * *

**Depressing? But I thought, what IF Sam CAN still feel – I mean, RC MUST have made the point about him being the only buried vamp for a reason, right? So, voila, a lovely Samelie fic from me on the off hope that she could bring him back… there's hope, right? And she'd probs LOVE another love triangle, since there is already one building between ShanexClairexMyrnin – NOT just my imagination!**

**Review, please!**

**Vicky xx**


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